


And (after coffee) They Were Roommates

by rubikanon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coffee Shops, F/F, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Hogwarts, Roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-07-25 05:32:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16191083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubikanon/pseuds/rubikanon
Summary: A (very) late birthday present for Delirious Comfort, who did not ask for a Coffee Shop + Roommates AU but this is apparently what happens when you don't specify what kind of Cissamione one shot you'd like best :D





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Delirious_Comfort](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delirious_Comfort/gifts).



> Thank you for being so wonderfully patient :) There's more I'm still working on but here's the beginning.

“Oh my god, they were roommates,” Harry said to Ron. His mouth hung open as he turned to look at Hermione. “You and _Narcissa Malfoy_? _She’s_ the witch you’ve been gushing about in your letters?”

Hermione spread her hands over the cafe table, trying to explain. “She’s a very attractive person! We got to know each other, got closer...”

Ron shuddered. “You should’ve joined us for auror training, Hermione. Why would you want to spend time with a Malfoy? Isn’t she making your life miserable?”

“Not at all! She...” Hermione stared off into space, smiling. “She’s good for me.” Her face fell. “I was the one treating her poorly, sometimes. And now she’s... distant. I think I’ve done something wrong but I can’t figure what. ”

“Can’t imagine how it’s your fault,” Harry said, shaking his head. “How about you tell us what all has happened?”

Hermione got up to refill their hot cocoas behind the counter and sat back down, passing them out. “It started at the end of July, right here at work.”

*Twelve Months Prior*

The hot summer sun lingered in the sky even as evening approached. Hermione sat in the airy cafe by a row of flavored syrups, reading a book. She glanced up when the bell over the door tinkled and warily watched a tall, blond witch come in.

Narcissa Malfoy. Though she wore plain robes rather than the fancy, tailor-made garments she'd worn in the past, there was no mistaking her. She noticed Hermione behind the counter with some surprise, but continued as if there were no issue. "One small coffee. Black. And today’s edition, please."

Hermione said nothing as Narcissa placed two silver sickles in the center of her palm. She handed over a _Daily Prophet_ and prepared the drink dutifully. She had a job to do, but she didn't have to be nice to people like the Malfoys.

Narcissa tucked the paper under her arm and took her drink over to a small table by the open windows overlooking Diagon Alley. Hermione tried to keep reading and ignore her, but it was hard to keep her eyes away. It felt strange to see this beautiful, haughty witch doing something so common as circling advertisements in the newspaper. Nearly an hour later, Narcissa stood up to leave, pausing at the cafe’s bulletin board covered in job openings, housing opportunities, and so on.

Hermione had posted a request for a roommate on the board, and she was startled to see Narcissa grasp the piece of parchment to read it. Anger sparked. Hermione whipped out a quill pen, marched around the counter, and scrawled “no purebloods” on the bottom of the parchment.

After hurrying away to avoid any disdainful comebacks, Hermione glanced back and felt a pinch of regret. Narcissa’s shoulders were hunched defensively, and her hands were frozen in front of her, fingers splayed as if she had dropped something precious that now lay shattered upon the ground.

Hermione told herself it didn't matter how the pureblood felt. A taste of her own prejudiced medicine was no more than she deserved, after all.

***

It didn’t sit right with her. Hermione lay awake that night thinking about her actions, replaying the moment in her mind. It was spiteful and unlike her to rule out an entire group of people―including the Weasleys, who were like a second family.

First thing the next morning when her shift started, she amended her scrawled words to say “no pureblood supremacists.” She felt better about that, because she had every right to rule out people who choose to be bigoted.

Hermione kept looking at the door that evening and sometimes caught herself holding her breath. Finally Narcissa walked by, looking tired. She passed the cafe without entering and kept her eyes fixed on the ground. Hermione felt almost disappointed, wishing there had been a chance to―what? Receive some acknowledgement? Be thanked for excluding Narcissa more ethically? Feeling a bit foolish now, Hermione focused on her current customers.

***

Over the course of August, Hermione tried to forget about the minor moment. But Narcissa kept passing the cafe at the same time every weekday, gradually changing in ways Hermione couldn’t quite identify. It reminded her of a new brass key losing its shine.

One day Narcissa was wearing an apron with a nearby shop’s logo emblazoned across the front: _Chadwick’s Charmed Cheeses_. A formerly rich member of the wizarding elite, working an ordinary job. She looked almost... approachable.

But Hermione also spotted a group of young people following close behind, looking at Narcissa and laughing with each other. The sight of it made her nervous, bringing her right back to memories of Hogwarts’ stone hallways, always watching out for bullies on her way to class. Hermione’s fists clenched. She hurried to the door, charmed the sign to say “Back in 15 minutes,” and locked it behind her. She trailed behind the teenagers, keeping an eye on them.

“Hey, Malfoy!” one of them shouted ahead. Out of school for the summer, with nothing better to do than cause trouble.

Narcissa didn’t acknowledge that she’d heard.

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re too good to talk to us?” the student asked.

Narcissa glanced back and said, “Excuse me. I simply want to continue on my way.”

The other students joined in harassing her, taunting her about her husband in prison for life, making crude come-ons, and asking where she was going. Hermione recalled reading in the papers that the ministry had seized the Malfoy estate after the war. Though Draco was forgivably young and had opportunities, Narcissa must have been left in the lurch. One good deed couldn't undo decades of supporting the wrong side.

Regardless, Hermione would not put up with this mistreatment. She hurried closer and yelled, “Hey!”

Narcissa jumped a little and looked back again, eyes wide, hastening her pace.

Something withered a little in Hermione’s chest. She had frightened Narcissa further, and it pained her more than she expected. She quickly added, “Leave her alone!”

The students stopped where they stood. “Hermione Granger? Merlin’s beard!” they whispered to each other in awe. “It’s Hermione Granger herself!”

Hermione felt her cheeks burn, uncomfortable with hero worship. “Gryffindors, aren’t you?” she asked, dismayed to notice a few signs of her own house colors. In her most authoritative prefect voice, she scolded, “We’re supposed to be chivalrous. I expect better of you.”

The students’ shoulders dropped as all their bluster deflated. “Yes, ma’am,” they mumbled and left without further incident.

Hermione sighed in relief and approached Narcissa. “I don’t think they’ll bother you again. Are you alright?”

“They weren’t even the worst sort,” Narcissa said stiffly. “I’m fine.”

Hermione frowned in worry. “Let me walk with you to wherever you’re going,” she offered.

“Do what you will,” Narcissa replied without any hint of how she felt about it.

Hermione walked down Diagon Alley beside her, feeling awkward but determined to see the other witch safely to her destination. She had trouble keeping herself from staring out of the corner of her eye. Narcissa studiously ignored her.

Hermione attempted some smalltalk. “So you have a job at Chadwick’s?”

Narcissa’s brow furrowed, then she glanced down at herself and removed her apron with the shop’s logo, tucking it away in a pocket. “Yes. For several weeks now. It’s been... educational.” She didn’t elaborate and stopped just outside the back door of the Leaky Cauldron. “Farewell.”

“You’re staying here?” Hermione asked, not quite ready to leave her alone. She didn’t like the idea of Narcissa walking this long route every day with even worse bullies watching and waiting.

“For now,” Narcissa said. “Shouldn’t you get back to work?”

Hermione looked down, shuffling her feet. “Yes, technically I shouldn’t have left.” She met Narcissa’s eyes again. “Maybe... you could relax in the cafe for an hour after work each day, and when my shift is over, I’ll walk you here.”

“Every weekday?” Narcissa asked. She tilted her head in consideration. “What do you want?”

“What?” Hermione asked, confused.

“What do you want in exchange for protecting me? I’ve lost my fortune, so what is it? Help with some Dark Arts vanity project?”

“No, there’s nothing―”

“Oh, you’re offering out of _kindness_?” Narcissa scowled. “Please, what do you take me for―”

“I don’t want anything!” Hermione insisted, irritated by the skepticism.

Narcissa squinted shrewdly. “More business for the cafe?” she guessed. “I’m not going to buy a drink every day.”

“That’s fine.” Hermione shrugged and let her arms fall heavily against her sides. “Goodbye, then. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Narcissa looked at Hermione for a long moment, caution still shadowing her clear blue eyes. “Yes, I suppose so.”


	2. Chapter 2

The last hour of Hermione’s shifts always seemed to pass the most slowly, until Narcissa started showing up every day. The offer must have seemed worthwhile to her. The first day, she paused at the bulletin board again and read each new listing, grasping their corners, careful not to touch Hermione’s. But she noticed the change. Her ears lifted ever so slightly, not quite a smile, but something positive.

If Hermione hadn’t been looking for it, she would’ve missed it. She smiled to herself and looked away. Between paragraphs of dense books, she kept glancing up to watch Narcissa pore over another newspaper and pause periodically to write letters, signing them with a practiced flourish. The last hour flew by.

When the two witches headed out, Hermione held the door open and reached toward Narcissa’s elbow to guide her through, then pulled back and hid the gesture. She didn’t know how the pureblood would react to her touch.

The whole first week, they walked in uncomfortable silence along the cobblestone alley, heat radiating through the soles of their shoes. The second week, they started speaking. Nothing significant, mostly about things they saw―a tiny lizard sunning itself on a stone, a dragonfly perching on the corner of the newspaper Narcissa carried―but it opened the way for more.

“Why a cheesery?” Hermione asked one evening.

Narcissa’s jaw tightened, and she looked away.

Hermione worried her tone might’ve sounded judgmental. “There’s nothing wrong with working there,” she said. “Their gouda is to die for. I’m just curious why.”

After a long pause, Narcissa admitted, “No other businesses were willing to employ me.”

“Because of your, um, history?”

“And lack of marketable skills,” Narcissa muttered. “I’d never worked a day in my life.” She tilted her head. “Why is a famously talented witch like yourself working at some hole-in-the-wall cafe?”

“It gives me a lot of free time on my shifts,” Hermione answered. “I’m planning to start a business, a charity for protecting the rights of magical creatures.”

“Of course you are,” Narcissa said dryly. “Good luck with that. You’ll need it.”

It didn’t sound as mocking as Hermione expected. The thought occurred to her that maybe spending time with Narcissa wasn’t so bad.

***

On another evening, the soft tapping of a fingernail on the counter drew Hermione from her reading.

Narcissa smiled. “You’re rather absorbed in that book, aren’t you? Sorry to interrupt. I’d like a beverage after all.”

Narcissa was already pretty, but with a smile, she was stunning. Hermione stammered, “No, no, that’s what I’m here for. Y-you’re not interrupting.” She could barely remember how to speak. Barista training came to the rescue. “Which drink would you like?”

After ordering, Narcissa leaned on the tall counter and inquired, “What are you reading?”

Hermione eagerly lifted the heavy book to show the cover. “A guide to running successful nonprofits. It’s very thorough, discussing all of the details...” She went on and on while preparing the drink, then quieted down and handed it to Narcissa, expecting her to lose interest the way Harry and Ron would.

Narcissa sipped absently and surprised Hermione by pulling the book closer, flipping to the table of contents. “Oh. A muggle book,” she sneered.

“Muggles are brilliant. Don’t be so prejudiced,” Hermione defended. “The principles should still be just as useful in the wizarding world. Everything except the financial advice.”

Narcissa made a face that appeared half apologetic and half a grimace at the thought of a muggle book being useful. “Hmm. I could help you there. I know a thing or two about managing gold for business interests.”

Again, Hermione was surprised. “Okay,” she said, deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth. She flipped to the finance chapter. “Can you explain how Gringotts does things?”

***

Thought it should have been the most unexciting subject ever, Hermione felt like she could listen to Narcissa for hours. Most days the older witch focused on her newspapers, running anxious fingers through hair that looked more and more unkempt as the last hour wore on. But some days they sat together at a cafe table, if no other customers were there, and Narcissa set aside her weariness to explain everything from taxes to the hazards of accepting loans from goblins. Her graceful gestures illustrated each concept while Hermione watched with rapt attention.

“And you’ll need a second set of accounting books, of course,” Narcissa said, “to secretly manage your illegal transactions. Bribes, money laundering, extortion...”

Hermione’s quill stilled on her page of notes. Her mouth fell open in dismay. Then Narcissa winked. _Winked_. Hermione felt it all over, as if the eyelashes had brushed her skin. Startled laughter came tumbling out. No, spending time with Narcissa wasn’t bad at all.

***

A possibility Hermione had dismissed came to mind daily now. As they walked the familiar route from the cafe to the inn above the pub, she thought about the empty room in her flat. Her only applicants so far weren’t really ideal, and Narcissa was seeming like a more and more attractive option. Smart, quiet, not so hateful anymore.

The two witches passed through the shuffling brick wall and paused outside the back door. Hermione checked to make sure no one was lurking there, then stood nervously in front of Narcissa. “Thanks for all of these finance tips. You’ve been great,” she began, not sure how to broach the subject.

Narcissa’s cheeks pinked slightly. “It’s nothing,” she dismissed, looking away. “I wanted to do something in return for your accompanying me. It’s a relief to be able to walk somewhere without fear of another stinging jinx or having my knees reversed.” She laughed, the first time Hermione had ever heard her laugh, and it was humorless, bitter.

“No one should’ve done that to you,” Hermione said angrily. She wrapped her arms around herself, holding back a surge of protectiveness. “You didn’t have to return the favor. I told you I didn’t want anything.”

Narcissa sniffed and shook her head, still skeptical. This time, Hermione ached at the thought that this witch was so unused to kindness from strangers that she couldn’t even accept it.

“You’ve been looking for housing, right?” Hermione asked. “Any luck?”

“None,” Narcissa said, sighing. “And unfortunately, the inn is too overpriced for the long term.” Too proud to plainly say she couldn’t afford to stay there much longer.

Hermione took a deep breath and asked, “How do you feel about cats?”

Narcissa caught on immediately, tilting her head with wide eyes. “They’re tolerable. I read your listing, Miss Granger, and it’s an option I would have taken if not for...” Her voice trailed off as she gestured toward Hermione disdainfully.

“The fact that I’m a mudblood?”

“The fact that you went out of your way to reject me.”

Hermione winced.

Narcissa looked down. “I understand why.”

“Maybe we can keep that in the past,” Hermione said. “Would you like to come see my flat?”

Narcissa rubbed her face tiredly.

“Or not,” Hermione backtracked, discouraged. She turned to leave. “It was just an idea. It’s okay if you’re not interested anymore. I’ll see you―”

“No, I am!” Narcissa said, catching Hermione’s hand and holding it between her own. “I am interested, but it’s been a long day. Perhaps you can show me over the weekend? Tomorrow?” She apparently had no problem with touching a muggleborn.

Hermione felt hot all of a sudden. She had been walking Narcissa home every evening and now Narcissa was holding her hand. It felt almost like the end of a date. She wondered what it would be like to kiss Narcissa goodbye, then shook the thought away.

“Not this weekend?” Narcissa asked. “Maybe the next.”

“Sorry, I was just―no, tomorrow is fine, great, really.”

“Meet me here at nine a.m.?” Narcissa suggested. Seeing a nod, she gave Hermione’s hand an emphatic little shake and said, “Thank you for this, truly.”

“Um, don’t thank me until you see what it’s like,” Hermione said with a laugh. It was hard to think coherently with Narcissa’s warm palms against her skin. If they were to be roommates, she would need to get used to casual contact.

“I’m sure it’s not half as bad as you think,” Narcissa said with another stunning smile.

Hermione would need to get used to that, too.


	3. Chapter 3

The late September air was crisp and cool the next morning. Hermione bought two drinks to-go with her employee discount on the way to the Leaky Cauldron and waited by the brick wall.

Right on time, Narcissa came outside looking marvelous, dressed in her former finery rather than her everyday work robes, though she seemed no more refreshed from having slept.

“Not a morning person?” Hermione mused, still only half-awake herself.

“I’m not particularly a fan of any time of day.”

Hermione snorted at that and held out Narcissa’s preferred black coffee. “Maybe this will help.”

“Thank you,” Narcissa murmured, accepting the gift hesitantly and taking a sip. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Come on, it’s this way. Very close to both our jobs.”

The two witches strolled down Diagon Alley and turned left into Natcher Alley just past the cheesery.

“Here’s my building,” Hermione said, tapping her wand on the security gate. It sprang open, revealing a scraggly dirt area around an uneven walkway. “Mind where you step. I swear someone will break an ankle here one of these days.” She let out a little laugh.

Narcissa said nothing, looking around as she followed along. They entered the building and veered away from the lift.

“It hasn’t worked since before I got here, sorry,” Hermione explained. “I’ve submitted several repair requests, but nothing changed.”

Again Narcissa was silent. She took everything in with a neutral expression. Hermione felt her hands get sweaty with nerves. They climbed up a few flights of stairs, treading carefully on the fourth floor landing where hundreds of tiny frogs hopped around, clinging to everything.

“Sorry, the frogs appeared last week with someone’s failed spell. At least the smoke has cleared out,” Hermione said, starting to feel sick as the other witch refrained from commenting. On the top floor, she unlocked her apartment and let Narcissa in. She shut the door again, pulling upward on it to let the latch click into place. “It’s tilted wrong, doesn’t lock properly unless you lift it a little.”

“Hmm,” was all Narcissa said, looking around the apartment.

Hermione led her on a quick tour. She had kept the place clean for showing it to potential roommates, but she’d been expecting someone more like her, a young person living in their first flat, someone more tolerant of the litany of problems. Seeing the Malfoy matriarch here with her ramrod-straight posture and her hands folded regally in front of her was too much.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione apologized, breath hitching. “This was a terrible idea. I’ll walk you home if you like.”

Narcissa turned toward her, crestfallen. Her composure slipped for only a second before she said politely, “Well. You don’t owe me anything, least of all an opportunity to mistreat you in your own home. I’ll be on my way.”

Hermione stepped in front of her. “Wait, that’s not what I meant.” She waved her arm around the room. “This place is so... common. You belong in a manor with fancy furniture and expensive art and stairways that aren’t covered in frogs.”

Narcissa’s lips parted as she stared for a long moment. “Miss Granger, I’ve had to learn some very difficult lessons recently. One of which is that I was born into riches that I did nothing to deserve. I don’t belong in a manor any more than I belong in this perfectly serviceable apartment.”

“You’re not silently judging everything?” Hermione asked, relaxing a little.

“I am,” Narcissa admitted with a guilty look. “It’s a difficult adjustment.”

“So, the frogs...”

“They’re atrocious and ought to be roasted,” Narcissa said. “Nevertheless, I would be grateful if you allow me to live with you.”

Hermione let out a breath and smiled. “Okay.” She felt proud of the noble witch for learning some humility. “Then... welcome to your new flat.”

“Just like that?”

“If you sign the rental agreement. I have it here.”

“My lawyer will―ah,” Narcissa caught herself. “No lawyer on retainer any longer. I’ll read it myself.”

“Do you know how to read, or did the family fortune pay someone to do that for you too?” Hermione teased.

Narcissa’s jaw tightened, and she looked away.

“Only joking,” Hermione said, shrugging.

*Present Day*

“I probably offended her,” Hermione groaned. “How many times have I said the wrong thing without even noticing? I keep making assumptions about her.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong,” Harry said. “She really was silently judging the place.”

“I shouldn’t have kept bringing up how rich she was.”

Ron said, “Kinda hard not to, considering how often Malfoy used to rub in it our faces.”

“I can’t blame her for everything he did,” Hermione replied.

“You’re defending her?” Ron asked.

“Of course she is. Narcissa is her _girlfriend_ ,” Harry teased.

“Her _what_?” Ron yelped. “I thought they were just pals.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Hermione said. “We’re not―she... I haven’t even told her I like her that way. We’re friends.”

Harry’s mouth fell open. “Wait, what? All of that gushing was over your _friendship_?”

Hermione held up her hands. “She’s my roommate! What am I supposed to say? ‘Don’t mind me, I’m just head over heels in love with you’? That would make everything awkward!”

“Awkward. Right,” Ron said, looking pale. “I know you fancy witches, I just never figured... _her_? Uh... alright then. So you’ve offended her and she’s mad? Seems likely. Posh people are so offendable.”

Sudden dread washed over Hermione. “Oh, no. What if I’ve messed up so badly that she’ll move out?” She rested her head in her hands, elbows on the table, unable to banish the image from her head: Narcissa packing up, leaving the place half empty.

Harry frowned and rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “What was it like when you started living together?”

*Ten Months Prior*

With autumn in full swing, the cafe was busier. So many people wanted something warm to drink on cold days. Hermione was dog tired by the time she got home after her shift. She plopped down on the sofa and pulled a footrest closer, stretching out her legs. Right as she picked out a book from her stack on the side table, Narcissa came out into the living area.

“Good evening. How are you? How was work?” Narcissa asked. She set a box on the kitchen counter and started unpacking some fine china.

“Good, you?” Hermione replied absently, flipping to her bookmarked page.

“Just good?” Narcissa wondered.

“Nothing unexpected happened.” Hermione hunted for the last paragraph she’d read.

“I’m sure you have more to say than that, but if you like, I’ll go first. Chadwick―the cheesery owner―was a menace today.” Narcissa grimaced and opened another cabinet. “Every ingredient I added was measured wrong, he said. Too much, too little, no matter how carefully I followed the recipe...”

Hermione listened as long as she could, but she’d already been a captive audience for talkative customers all day. During a pause, she said, “Sorry, maybe you can tell me more later? I like to relax and read after work.”

Narcissa paused with her hands full of saucers. “You don’t want to vent about your day too? Lucius and I always listened to each other when we got home.”

“We’re only roommates, not married or anything,” Hermione reminded her. Crookshanks finished eating and came over to hop onto her lap. He bathed there, licking a paw and drawing it over his squashed, fuzzy face. She pet him for a minute, smiling.

Narcissa glared at Crookshanks out of the corner of her eye as she finished putting her china away, then retreated to her room.

Too late, Hermione realized she might’ve come across as rude. She felt a little guilty, but this was what she did every evening. She didn’t have to change everything just because her new roommate felt like talking.

***

Hermione didn’t know how it was possible to live with someone and see so little of them. At Hogwarts everyone was always underfoot, and it was hard to find a moment alone, but Narcissa came and went like a phantom. She always got home before Hermione and stayed in her room, so quiet that it was hard to tell she was there at all.

After about a week, Hermione happened to arrive home before her and read while petting Crookshanks until the apartment door opened. Narcissa glared again at the half-kneazle and brought an armful of groceries to the kitchen.

“Hey, Narcissa?”

Narcissa turned around, looking oddly hopeful. “Yes?”

“Do you have a problem with my cat?”

“No... he’s a very sweet cat. I see why you like him,” she replied. Crookshanks purred proudly and rolled over to show his belly and chin. “Is that all?”

That didn’t explain the glaring, but Hermione shrugged and said, “No, I wanted to mention there’s been some toast crumbs on the counter for a few days, and some butter now as well. Sorry to nag, but I don’t want to attract ants.”

“It’s not gone yet?” Narcissa asked, going over to look. “Strange.”

“Well, it won’t just disappear on its own,” Hermione said with a laugh. Narcissa looked at her oddly. Her laugh faded. “You know that, right? What do you think happens to it?”

Narcissa’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t know. I suppose... the house elves clean it up.”

“Oh my god,” Hermione exclaimed. “You’ve seriously never thought about it before?”

Narcissa crossed her arms. “How could I have known?! They stay out of sight.”

“I can’t believe you grew up so privileged that you never had to learn how to clean up after yourself.”

Narcissa angrily pulled her wand out and cast a vanishing charm on the offending crumbs. “There. Now keep your unsolicited opinions to yourself.” She stormed away to her bedroom.

Hermione made claws with her hands and let out a growl of frustration. “This isn’t working, Crooks. Maybe I should have found a different roommate.”

Crookshanks opened one disdainful eye and let his fluffy tail whack Hermione in the face as he hopped down and walked away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it has been forever. But I am still here, and managed to put this together enough to post.

Though aware now that cleaning is a thing, Narcissa had a lot of difficulty remembering about it. As with her friends neglecting their homework, Hermione slipped naturally into a nagging role.

After Narcissa made a sandwich, Hermione said, “You need to put the mustard back in the fridge.” On rainy days, she pointed out, “You got water all over the floor.” After showers, she reminded her, “You left your dirty clothes in the bathroom.”

“My worn clothes are not _dirty_ ,” Narcissa objected.

Hermione huffed, “Are you really so arrogant you think you don’t get dirty like the rest of us?”

And they still weren’t otherwise speaking to each other. It wasn’t at all how Hermione hoped it would be. She missed the easier days of walking home together after work, before their lifestyles clashed, but she wasn’t sure how to get that back.

“What next?” Narcissa eventually growled, trying aim a jet of _aguamenti_ at some dishes. “Pointlessly scrubbing the cobblestones outside as punishment? I’m too old to be in detention.”

A light bulb went off in Hermione’s head. “Wait. It doesn’t have to be like that.”

“How else could it possibly be?”

“Here, we’ll do it together.” Hermione added her own dishes to the rest in the sink and filled it with hot water and a charm for soap. “I’ll scrub, you rinse and dry. Let your thoughts wander.”

Narcissa grumbled a little, but before long it turned into an easy rhythm. Hermione would finish scrubbing a plate right as Narcissa was reaching for the next dish to rinse. They worked smoothly through the combined stack until it was finished. Hermione dried off her hands and brushed them together in satisfaction.

Narcissa blinked and looked around as if she’d been in a trance. “That was... not as agonizing as I expected.”

“A job well done.” Hermione patted her on the shoulder, then hastily looked away and silently berated herself for doing something as silly as giving a full-grown noblewoman a pat on the back for goodness’ sakes―

“Thank you. Let me see if I remember how you did it,” Narcissa said. “The soap charm is simply _peraqua saponifus_?” She swished her wand in the general direction of the sink.

“Wait, your wand needs to be―”

A horde of bubbles tumbled out, filling the entire sink and countertop with a mountain of soap suds that started spilling onto the floor.

“―dipped in the water,” Hermione finished, watching one bubble float in the air past her face.

Narcissa stood still, face tight and downcast as if she too were berating herself over nothing.

Hoping to help her feel better, Hermione scooped up a handful of bubbles and blew them at her, then burst out laughing at the sight of Narcissa with bubbles stuck to her chin.

Narcissa opened her mouth indignantly and gathered a handful of bubbles to retaliate. Hermione squeaked and darted around to the other side of the kitchen island.

Narcissa pursed her lips but failed to hide her amusement. “I suppose it would be unbecoming for me to get drawn into this nonsense.” She put the bubbles back and wiped her hands dry.

Relieved that she’d gotten away with it, Hermione came closer to drain the sink. Suddenly a torrent of bubbles streamed up into the air and cascaded over her head and down her front, getting everywhere. Sputtering, she wiped the suds from her eyes and saw Narcissa snickering.

“I thought you weren’t getting ‘drawn into this’!”

“I’m a Slytherin.”

“You won’t get away with that.”

“Oh, how intimidating.”

“That’s it,” Hermione snapped, lunging toward Narcissa, who shrieked and let out a decidedly girlish giggle while fleeing around the kitchen island. They flung more bubbles at each other, making a chaotic mess of the kitchen and laughing all the while. Then a sudden dodge sent Hermione sliding dangerously. Narcissa cast a cushioning charm just before she hit the floor.

“Oof!” Hermione gasped. She grinned ruefully up at Narcissa and accepted a hand helping her up. “Thanks. I suppose it’s like they always say: all fun and games until...” She gave herself just a few seconds to savor the feeling of Narcissa’s firm grip and delicate fingers wrapped around her own. There was an uncomfortable pang in her heart; she did not want to let go. But she did, and looked around for something―anything―to distract herself, focusing on the soapy floor. “Here, um... this is how to charm a mop to clean the floor for you.”

She demonstrated the spell, then duplicated the mop and invited Narcissa to try it. Soon there were two mops working their way across the kitchen floor in a methodical motion.

Hermione laughed and waved her wand to make one of them twirl. Narcissa did the same, and soon both of them were laughing at their own antics with the dancing mops.

“This is like _The Sorcerer’s Apprentice_.” Seeing Narcissa’s confusion, Hermione clarified, “It’s a cute scene in a muggle movie. A motion picture.”

“Muggles created a scene about cleaning with magic?”

“Yes. In fact... come on, let’s gather our clothes and go to the laundry room. While we wait for it to finish, we can come back here and watch the movie.”

***

Though their fun cleaning-and-movie day broke some of the ice that had crept over them, Hermione noticed Narcissa was still sulking a bit and still glared sometimes at Crookshanks, who had never done anything wrong in his life ever. Except a few times. But Hermione could not abide Narcissa’s attitude much longer. Finally she asked directly:

“ _What_ is your problem?”

Narcissa looked like she wasn’t going to answer, then burst out, “You pay more attention to that cat than to you do to me!”

“Why do you even want my attention? Besides, Crooks doesn’t interrupt my reading, he just comes over and lies down.” Hermione gestured to her lap where the half-kneazle quietly cracked open one eye at the sound of his own name.

“I can’t exactly do the same,” Narcissa complained.

Hermione replied, “You could if you wanted. The sofa is long enough.”

Narcissa continued her icy glare for several moments. Then she stuck out her chin, lips pressed together with sudden determination. She marched over to the sofa and slowly lay down on her side, holding eye contact as if waiting to be told to stop. She scooped up the cat from Hermione’s lap and replaced him with her own head, while Hermione watched with her palms up in the air, dumbfounded. Crookshanks complained a little until he realized Narcissa’s stomach was an equally good napping spot, and he stretched out there instead.

“O―kay,” Hermione said. Her heart was pounding. This wasn’t exactly what she intended, but it felt... nice. There was a beautiful head of silky hair in her lap. She slid her hand into it, rubbing the scalp. Narcissa let out a contented sigh. “Okay,” Hermione said again softly, settling down. She could work with this. She picked up her book, propped it on the armrest, and continued reading with a small smile on her face.

Hermione heard Narcissa’s breathing shift, slow and even as her body relaxed in sleep. It warmed Hermione’s heart. She let her rest without disturbing her and got through a large portion of the book in her hands.

Narcissa woke to Hermione patting her shoulder. She rubbed her face, looking groggy. “What time is it?” There was a crease in Narcissa’s cheek where wrinkled fabric had left a mark. It made her seem younger and less intimidating.

And a little bit cute. Hermione couldn’t help grinning. “Eight o’clock. We could have dinner and talk about our days,” she suggested.

“Very well,” Narcissa said, clearly pleased, though she tried to hide it.


End file.
